


Fill The Ache

by everest_tayla



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Mild Smut, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-11-02 05:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20636624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everest_tayla/pseuds/everest_tayla
Summary: Arya returns to Gendry after years have gone by since she left for what was west of Westeros. Tension of all kinds ensues. I don't own GOT or the characters (obviously)





	Fill The Ache

She watched him study sheets of parchment intently over a large rich desk that would swallow anyone else who'd sit behind it, but not Gendry.

Somehow even bigger than the last time she saw him, the expanse of his chest had more than doubled. Thick muscles bunched up underneath the fine leathers that were clinging to his hulking form as he wrote with a feather quill that appeared too delicate for his hand. His dark hair no longer shaved but was now shoulder-length and half knotted behind his head, similar to how Jon used to wear his own.

The light shadow of facial hair highlighted Gendry's angular jawline that tensed when he was deep in thought.

She thought back to the last time she saw him. Two years ago when her brother was made King of the Seven Kingdoms. She had snuck glances at him from her seat when they were all gathered to free Tyrion and Jon. He had been a man who was unsure of himself, who looked uncomfortable to be called Lord and to be dressed in fine clothing. After the gathering, she didn't seek him out. In fact she avoided him at all cost. Too say goodbye to her family was hard enough, too say goodbye to Gendry would have resulted with her staying in Westeros.

So she departed for what lied beyond Westeros, discovered new lands and new people. Explored and experienced new adventures. But eventually she couldn't ignore the ache in her heart that called her home. But home wasn't a snowy kingdom called Winterfell anymore, home had become the man who was now sitting at the desk in front of her.

She continued to observe him from the dark corner of his private office. He was no longer a man who was unsure of himself. He was now Lord Baratheon, son of King Robert. 

"Are you going to continue lurking in the shadows or are you going to show your face?", he mumbled gruffly, head still down to his papers.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Surely he hadn't seen her? Only a single candle illuminated the contents of his desk. The rest of the room was shrouded in the darkness of the night. She smirked before revealing herself, coming to stand in front of his grand desk. 

He didn't look up right away. He instead read the sentence he just wrote one final time, his lips silently moving as they wrapped around each syllable. He then popped the quill back into its' ink pot, rolled up the scroll and stamped it with the Baratheon seal. Pushing it to the side, he leaned back into his chair with his hands clasped over his thick torso before finally acknowledging her presence, scanning every inch of her body as he made his way up to her face.

"Arya Stark." He didn't smile. He maintained his stoical expression, like a man who didn't have time for such nonsense. Her name from his lips stung a little. She much preferred m'Lady, at least it was playful, familiar. His tone held an impatient tolerance. 

She bowed her head slightly, thinking two could play at that game. "m'Lord."

She swore she saw his lip slightly quirk, but if it had it was now firmly back to frowning.

"What brings you to Storm's End? Do you bring word from King Bran?"

She drew from her experience with the many-faced god, lying as smoothly as butter sliding down a piece of hot toast. "Yes, he'd like to know how everything's going."

An eyebrow sprung up with mild bemusement before he replied. "How everything's going?", he questioned.

"Yes. Food, water, construction, coin, defences? More of a routine check, to offer any assistance if need be. To strengthen the alliance of the crown and Storm's End."

Gendry's face hardened once again, revealing nothing but duty and compliance. He leaned back over his desk, his fists coiling against the wood. "In the two years since he's become King, this is the first I've heard from him."

"He understands that, and apologises. The crown has been awfully busy rebuilding King's Landing. That's why he extends his hand now, now that he has the resources to give."

"Well you can tell him that we're doing just fine, but we extend the same favour to King's Landing if need be."

She gave a slight nod. "The crown appreciates your generosity m'Lord."

"Is that the only reason you've come here?If that's the case couldn't he have sent a scroll?", Gendry questioned with suspicion.

Each was silently daring the other to speak the unspoken, acknowledge the unacknowledged. A sly smile that didn't reach Arya's eyes played across her face.

"He prefers the personal touch." 

The slight twitch of a smirk lingered on Gendry's face before disappearing once more. A slow stretch of silence lingered between the two of them, eyes never leaving each others. She broke first, tired of their little game.

"Well, if that be all, I bid you farewell Lord Baratheon."

She turned to leave, just reaching the door when he finally spoke.

"Wait. You've come all this way, the least we can do is offer food and lodging to the crown's messenger for the night."

"That's not necessary."

"I will not be sending a lady alone into the night", he said with authority.

She snorted, "I am no lady."

"I know, and I know you're capable of protecting yourself. But I don't want word reaching the King that I let his sister ride into the night alone. Even if you are Arya Stark." He spat her name, like it was poison burning his tongue.

She smiled curtly before bowing her head. "Well then, the crown thanks you."

"I'll show you to your chambers."

He led her through the castle until they reached a very luxurious room behind a heavy door. It was simple, spacious but regal. A large four poster bed sat engorged with gold satin bedding at the center. A clawfoot bath tub sat in the corner near double doors that led out to a balcony.

"A simple bed would have been enough."

"This is all I have to spare I'm afraid. I apologize if it is not to your liking."

"It will do", she murmured. 

He went to leave before halting half way out the door. "Dinner will be served in the great hall in half an hour, you're welcome to join us."

Her eyebrows knotted together. Was he married? Did he already have a new Lady of Storm End? 

"Us?", she said casually, pretending to be bewitched by the room's furnishings. 

"My councilmen, some visiting nobles, friends of Storm End.."

She mentally sighed with relief, not that their stagnant relationship seemed to be blossoming. "Thank you, m'Lord."

He left her alone to drown in her own thoughts.

She hadn't known what to expect when arriving at Storm's End. Was she expecting an emotional and passionate reunion with Gendry? No. Even though in the deep recesses of her mind she had secretly hoped that would be the case. But she also didn't expect such hostility and indifference. To be treated as a stranger. She deserved it, sure. But from Gendry, it felt more painful than a thousand daggers wedged into her spine.

Her brother King Bran had indeed sent her to Storm End to strengthen alliances, but that was far from the only reason she was there. She'd missed him. Like a taloned claw grasping her heart, she ached for him. But clearly the feelings weren't mutual. He had been as cold as the biting frost of a white walker.

She decided to forgo dinner, not wanting to intrude any further than she already had. 

A lady in waiting knocked on her door a moment later and asked if she needed any assistance. After filling her bath for her, Arya ushered her to the door, wanting nothing more than some privacy.

"Will you be joining the other's for dinner in the great hall m'Lady?", the petite woman asked politely.

"No. I shall bathe and rest before making my leave early before sunrise."

A look of disapproval danced across the woman's face before she rightly became expressionless once again. "Is there anything else I can do for you m'Lady?"

"No, thank you."

The woman left Arya to relish the hot water in peace, candle light giving her bare skin a golden tinge. She let the water flood the concoles of her muscles after a long few days of riding, mentally planning her journey to Jon the following day. She was adamant to think of anything but Gendry Waters. No, Gendry Baratheon.

~

"What do you mean she isn't coming?", Gendry whispered vehemently, his fist almost striking the grand hall's crowded dining table with anger.

"She said she'd rather bathe and rest to prepare for her journey at dawn m'Lord." The woman whispered back, her timid expression making Gendry feel guilty for lashing out at her.

His eyes travelled across to the other men and Lords with their wives and Ladies, eating more than their full as their vast pot-bellies clawed at their breeches for an escape, drunkenly sloshing their drinks together, discussing matters that were of no interest to Gendry.

He clenched and unclenched his fist within the confines of his leather gloves, annoyed but not surprised at Arya's stubborn nature.

"Have the kitchen prepare a plate of food for her", he requested of the chamber maid he had sent up to Arya before.

"Would you like me to take it to her m'Lord?"

"No, thank you. I'll take it to her myself."

~

He carried the tray that held a jug of wine, a goblet, a plate full of roast pork, chicken, vegetables and gravy, and another plate of assorted sweet pastries the kitchen had made for dessert to Arya's room.

He stopped at her door, piercing the wood with his stare as if he could will her to open it.

He balanced the silver tray on one arm as he raised his fist to knock, pausing mid air.

When he had first sensed her in his office, the hairs on his arms had stood on end. The subtle scent that was pure Arya Stark had given her away. Leather, frost, and earthy warmth had engulfed his nostrils as if she had been mere inches away. He had controlled his breathing as best he could, trying to absorb himself in the parchment papers that no had longer held any meaning, not with her so close. 

When she had revealed herself, he had to swallow. Her hair had grown longer, woven into a thick braid from the back of head that led down to just above her breasts. Her hair was lighter too, subtle golden tones from relentless sunlight had made her once dark brunette locks now a dark blonde.

Her pale skin was now lightly tanned, little freckles now teasing the edges of her nose.

New faded scars made their presence known against her cheekbones and neck, making his heart hurt.

The sight of her had made his dormant soul awaken. 

The two years since she'd been away, he had settled into trying to be the best Lord he could be, at least for a blacksmith that had grown up in the streets of Flea Bottom. Ser Davos of Seaworth had aided him greatly, teaching him to read and write. Many noble families had offered up their daughters for marriage, but he always politely declined.

Though his initial instinct when he first laid eyes on her had been to cover Arya's mouth with his own as he held her in his arms, he had to draw back. The painful memories of his rejected marriage proposal and her blatantly ignoring him at the gathering for Tyrion and Jon's fate had doused him with a shot of reality.

His heart had barely healed, if it ever would. The pressure to marry and continue the Baratheon name had weighed on him greatly since her absence. He had put off the many requests for marriage with excuses of pressing matters relating to his new title as Lord, but that excuse was beginning to wear thin. He knew his feelings for Arya had held him back from moving on. 

Her unexpected arrival to Storm's End had not eased that hardship. He had heard rumours of her return to Westeros weeks ago, but he had not anticipated that he would ever get to lay his eyes on her face ever again.

Her presence had overwhelmed him, to the point he had to emotionally detach himself from her immediately, for he didn't think his heart could withstand another disappointment. 

So he treated her as curtly as he could. Making their exchange all about important matters to do with the Crown and Kingdom.

Yet, his hand shook before he pulled himself together, rebalancing the tray of food before finally knocking curtly against the thick wood of Arya's temporary chambers.

He heard a scuffle, the splashing of water and heavy footsteps striding towards him before Arya revealed herself behind the door. 

"I told you I didn't need anything-...oh", she sputtered, realizing who was at her door.

His mouth went bone dry.

Her hair was out of its' neat braid, now in loose waves against her skin, the bottom strands slightly damp. Her bare shoulders and arms were wet, as was her torso which was slightly hidden behind a white sheet she had curled around herself. The sheet however was dampening, making the material slightly see-through. He quickly brought his eyes back to her face.

"I apologize for the intrusion, I came to bring you this, as I was told you weren't joining us for dinner."

He presented her the tray of food patiently, waiting for her to take it.

"Uhh, thanks. Maybe you better bring it in here", she mumbled awkwardly.

"Why can't-", he noticed her desperately clutching the loose sheet around her body with both hands, realizing her predicament, "-oh of course, please allow me."

She moved away from the door so he could step in. He briefly noted the full bath tub of water and candles lighting the room. He really had come at an awful time. He quickly averted his eyes from the tub, as if he'd just snuck a look into a brothel window, and placed the tray on the bedside table.

"You really shouldn't have", she mumbled, tightening the sheet around her naked body to prevent further embarrassment.

He turned to face her, spine straight and arms folded behind him. "I will not have the King hearing how the Lord of Storm End allowed his sister to go hungry", he said curtly.

As he strode back towards the door, he heard her spit under her breath, "Wow, how noble of you."

The venom in her voice made him turn around. "Pardon?"

Her eyes finally met his, blunt and bitter, "You don't owe me anything."

"I'm well aware of that, but I owe the crown-"

"Bullshit", she bit.

"Excuse me?"

"Will you just grow some balls and say what you want to say?", she yelled.

He kept calm, both infuriated and amused at her outburst. "What is it you think I want to say?"

"Oh I don't know, how about fuck you for rejecting me? Fuck you for ignoring me? Fuck you for leaving?"

He kept his hands clasped together, controlling every urge in his body that wanted yell back. "To say fuck you would imply that I care."

She through an arm up with exasperation, almost loosing her sheet as she began to pace. "Oh go fuck yourself Gendry. Fine. You don't care, not anymore. But I do. Alright? And I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?"

"Yes."

He cleared his throat slowly and deliberately, by the old gods and new, his voice would not shake. "Well, there's nothing to be sorry for. I was never worthy of your hand in marriage, Lady Stark. You owed me nothing. Were my feelings hurt? Sure. But I grew up and got over it."

"That's it?"

"That's it", he said simply.

There was a beat of silence between them before she whispered, "Can I at least explain why I said no?"

"Completely unnecessary-", he began.

"I know, you don't care and don't need an explanation. I get it. But for my own sanity, I need to explain. You can tune me out if you want, but I just need to say this out loud. Okay?"

He let out a shaky breath. "Okay."

"I loved you, and those few days we spent in Winterfell together were some of the best of my life. When you asked me to be your lady, to be your wife, I never wanted to say yes to anything more. And not because you had become officially a Baratheon, but because it was you. Gendry Waters. Gendry Baratheon. Gendry. Asking me to be with you. But I had to say no. I had to because you deserved so much more than me. As head of House Baratheon and Lord of Storms End, you deserved a noble lady who would be a proper wife, dress in fine silks, lace and corsets, who danced and mingled with other Lords and Ladies. Who politely sipped her wine and spoke when spoken to. Who'd bare you children and raise them to be good lord and ladies. A lady that's not me."

Gendry opened his mouth to speak, but Arya continued.

"And at King's Landing, I could barely look at you without my heart aching. I knew if I'd said goodbye to you before I left, my feet would have never left Westeros."

When Gendry was sure she was finished, he finally spoke. "May I say something?"

She nodded shyly. "Of course."

"When I asked you to be my wife, my lady, I expected none of the things you just mentioned. I wanted you and you only. Whatever that meant. I wanted Arya Stark, who is fiercely brave and takes no shit from anyone. I wanted you, wild and untamed. The woman who would always beat me in a fight, who would never kneel, bow or curtsey. Who would rather die than wear a dress of any kind. I wanted your biting words and thirst for blood. Even if that meant you'd often leave on a whim for adventure. That you'd fight in battle defending what you love the most. That the Baratheon line would end with me."

"You didn't-.. you never said...-",she stuttered.

"You'd bloody ran off and disappeared into battle again, to King's Landing, before I had a chance to explain. You were and still are the most frustrating and stubborn woman I've ever met. And I wouldn't have wanted you any other way."

Arya cradled the sheet against her body, almost forgetting she was partially naked. "Wanted?",she whispered timidly.

Gendry's heart began to beat rapidly. He tilted his head to the side, observing her face. "What are you thinking Arya? What's going on in that head of yours?"

She tucked a hair behind her ear before meeting his eyes, cheeks pink and eyes glistening. "I still love you. I never stopped. That's why I returned. That's why when my brother needed a messenger to come here I insisted it be me. I love you, Gendry."

His breath left his lungs in a rush. He never thought the day he'd hear Arya Stark utter those words would come. And yet here she was, emotional, vulnerable, open and honest, clutching a sheet to her naked form.

"And, I don't know what a life married to me would be like. Probably as unpredictable as I am. But I am asking you now, if you'll still have me-"

Gendry had to interrupt before his head exploded. "Arya, stop. You can't just come here and say these things and expect everything to just fall into place." He didn't mean it. He would have her in a heart beat, but allowing himself to actually believe she wanted the same thing, was just too much to ask of him.

"You're right, I know", she said softly.

She breathed deeply before striding towards his still form that observed her intently. "I won't ask you to be my husband, m'Lord, for I do not deserve it. But I will ask something else of you. Something I also don't deserve but have ached for since all those years ago back in Winterfell. Something I've craved since I laid my eyes on you at your desk."

She stopped to stand in front of him and allowed the sheet that was protecting her modesty to fall to the ground. The heated flush of her cheeks was now rapidly spreading to her neck, even as the cold night air scraped its' talons against her skin, leaving goosebumps in its' wake. Without a second thought she grabbed Gendry's hand and placed his palm gently on her sternum, in between her breasts.

"Your touch."

Gendry felt her heart's rapid beat match his own as it thrummed against his now shaking palm. When all was said and done, he'd missed this too. Her presence, her touch, the heat of her body against his own. In that moment he wanted to forget everything, forget all the hurt, the death, the confused and unsaid feelings. And just be. Just be here with Arya.

The arm that was by his side had now travelled up to her neck. With his palm open, he pressed it lightly against the left side of throat, relishing the feel of her quickening pulse. Just the smallest of skin to skin contact felt like fire. Searing and unrelenting. It became too much and too little all at once. Her veins throbbed with need, no longer in control.

They both collided at the same time, reaching for each other with a speed that transcended space and time. Her fingers went for the nape of Gendry's neck, painfully grasping his hair with a desperation that bordered on animalistic. His own hands clawed at her head and neck, each trying to hold the other in place as lips and teeth clanged together violently. There was nothing sweet about it.

Both groaned in pain at each other's little assaults, but their need for each other felt more like agony. Their mouths closed around each others, both wanting to take control. Tongues lashed and lips were bitten and bruised. The metallic taste of blood only heightening their urgency.

"Stop", Gendry whispered harshly against her mouth, his own intensity not easing. 

"You stop", she spat back against his mouth, colliding her fist with the center of his chest. It was enough force to bruise Gendry, but not enough to move his brute force.

He chuckled before roughly pushing her backwards towards the bed.

"None of us want that."

She landed on her back, the wind knocked out of her briefly before a smile she couldn't hold back spread across her face. She needed this. They both did.

He leaned over her, balancing his weight on his palms that were either side of her head. He came in slowly this time, brushing her lips with his, soft but firm. Her eyes fluttered closed at the gentleness, her heart contracting painfully within her ribcage. He detached his lips from hers, his face hovering just above her chin. Their heavy pants brushed each others faces, each drinking in the air that the other breathed. 

Her hand slid up his leather-clad chest, letting it rest over his heart as her eyes bore into his. 

"I am yours", she breathed.

He swept her hair away from her face so it pooled around her head like a waterfall, the tendrils illuminated by soft candlelight.

"And I am yours." A shaky breath left him with a shudder before he covered her body with his own, knowing he would forever be tethered to Arya.

"M'lady", she felt against her ear. Her smile nearly split her face in two.


End file.
